This picture is in color
Or so I have been told
Yet all I see are streaks of gray
Like stinking, putrid mold

Something isn't quite right
Something sacred isn't here
But as I count up all I have
There's the taste of rancid beer

It lingers when there's laughter
It whispers when there's warmth
And when I count my sins at bedtime
That haunting taste comes forth

Yet the world keeps on shifting
In its infinite monochrome haze
I stare in the mirror and smile
But the gray dwells in my gaze.


© Mu Antoun "The Feathered Pagan"

Does it glitter in the moonlight
Like a dancing flame of life?
Does it spin and twirl in the breeze
With the grace of a frozen knife?
Can you see it if you squint
And look beyond yourself in a mirror?
Does it lurk within the pages
Of your heart in ink, laid bare?
If you saw it in the shadows,
would you greet it or flee in rage?
If you fled, would it still love you
As it whimpers from its cage?
And if it did, would you feel it
As you glorify the sun?
Would you know your soul is missing?
Would you know your self is shunned?


© Mu Antoun "The Feathered Pagan"